


pistol whipped

by garbagedad666



Category: Block B
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Blackmail, Gangs, Guns, Implied/Referenced Sex, Internal Conflict, M/M, Minor Original Character(s), More tags will be added later, Sad, Swearing, Violence, be warned there's some bad stuff that'll happen later, it's implied that jaehyo is anemic, red tiger vs. black dragon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-16
Updated: 2016-06-25
Packaged: 2018-07-15 09:36:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7217173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/garbagedad666/pseuds/garbagedad666
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jaehyo's treading in dangerous water.</p><p>Too bad Jihoon's already drowning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. part i - discovery

     

_november 10th, 11:11pm_

 

     The barrel of the gun is pushing against his lips and he can feel his heart racing a million miles a minute. Jaehyo sucks in the taste of cold metal, and he swears he can feel the salt of Jiho’s sweat accumulating on his tongue. He’s disappointed that the man holding the gun isn’t Jiho, but the mark etched into the gun’s handle is enough to tell Jaehyo that it’s his firearm.

     The man holding it licks his lips, tongue moving in an almost juvenile way across his mouth and causing his baby pink lips to shine against the dim orange of the streetlamps. Other than that, though, his face is masculine and carved, with a jawline that looks as hard as diamonds. If his eyes weren’t so warm and genuine-looking, Jaehyo would definitely be afraid of this guy.

     He smiles against the barrel of the gun and the man’s grip relaxes.

     “How’s it taste?” Jihoon teases, flashing Jaehyo a grin that exposes all his teeth. Jaehyo waves the younger man off, grimacing at the wet dirt left on the back of his bare arms from being pressed against the dirty brick wall.

     “Pretty damn good. How else d’you think the legendary Woo Jiho would taste?”

     Jihoon shrugs, not finding that phrase ridiculous in the slightest. Team Red Tiger was legendary. They were too exclusive to be called a gang; more of a clique, barely seen in person but talked about all over the city. It was rumored to only have a few members, but people from all around would try to track them down. How Jihoon managed to get the _gun_ of Woo Jiho is not only a mystery, but a miracle.

     Jaehyo had given the assignment to Jihoon as a distraction. The guy was nice and all--in fact, they wouldn’t have anywhere to stay without him--but his constant hovering and cheeriness had been of annoyance to Jaehyo, and he’d decided to give him the most impossible mission he could think of.

 _Get your hands on Woo Jiho’s Red Tiger revolver._ _Bring it back, and you’ll be the second in command of this entire operation._

     Jihoon seemed to think that Black Dragon was something big, something he could rule. The boy had been treated like a prince throughout his childhood; he came from a rich family who dominated the center of Gangnam, living a posh lifestyle until he ditched the house for the street life. He’d told Jaehyo when he’d first run away, young and fearful, that he was sick of having everything _handed_ to him on a silver platter, and that he wanted to be treated like anyone else would. Jaehyo had pretended Black Dragon was a big deal--not just some high-school motley crew that he’d made up on the spot to try and impress Jiho--when Jihoon had begged him to join, and had narrowed his eyes in mock contemplation before accepting the younger man inside.

     In truth, Black Dragon had started as a copycat group. Jaehyo wouldn’t ever _disclose_ that to anyone, of course, but he couldn’t deny: his forming of this group had begun as a yearning to be a part of Red Tiger. The yearning turned easily to bloodlust as their own group grew more talked-about, as well. Although Jaehyo’s gang wasn’t anywhere close to reaching Jiho’s popularity, they had managed to intimidate a few neighborhoods nonetheless.

     When he finally looks up, Jihoon’s eyes are searching, a bit wide with concern. “Jaehyo?”

     Jaehyo blinks up at him, completely forgetting his dignity in the past. “Hm?”

     “You zoned out a little, I think.”

     “Oh.” He runs a hand through his head, tries to collect himself. “I’m sorry. What were you saying?”  
     Jihoon grins, all teeth and mischief. “I was telling you how I got the damn thing in the first place.”

     “Hm? How?”

     “You’re not gonna believe this.”

     “Hm?”

     “Seriously, it’s insane! When I saw it, I was completely fuckin _floored--_ ”

     “How’d you _get_ it, Jihoon,” Jaehyo barks, and Jihoon’s focus snaps back. He opens his mouth to speak, and Jaehyo braces himself. Jihoon doesn’t look injured, but he must’ve been through something _really_ fucked up if he managed to get those hands on a gun like _that_.

     Jihoon’s whole body is bouncing slightly as he recalls the story, obviously excited. “Okay, so I was looking through every district to try and find this guy and his gun, right? I have my pistol in my belt and that’s it, just because I don’t want to intimidate people or anything. So I’m walkin’ down this street in Hongdae, and I’m really tired, ‘cause I’ve been searching all night. So I go to the bar and sit down for a drink. It’s dead--y’know, completely deserted, since it’s a Tuesday night and everyone’s got schoolwork to do. Bartender gets me a beer ‘n I pay him, and I’m drinking really quietly, just hanging out, and I hear this sound. It’s kinda like this low rumble sound, so I listen real hard, just to see what’s going on. And I hear it again, and I realize it’s a _guy_ making that noise, and it’s coming from the bathroom.

     “This place is shitty, yeah? Really shitty. The shitter’s only a short walk from the bar, and I realize that _that’s_ where the noises are coming from. So I get all James Bond, and I walk really quietly into the bathroom. I almost scream, though, because I see this guy on his knees by one of the urinals. He’s fuckin’ _sucking dick_ in the middle of the place! Not even in a stall or anything. The guy who’s getting the action is the one making the noises. He’s got his hands in the other guy’s hair, and making those weird loud rumbling sounds, and doesn’t notice me at all, ‘cause I’m being quiet as a mouse! I get my phone and zoom in real close on the face of the guy, and then I--”

     Jaehyo knows where this story is going, and he can feel his stomach sinking.

     “I fucking realize it’s no one other than goddamn _Woo Jiho!_ Holy shit, it took all the strength I had to keep from screaming. But I thought of you, first, and I snapped a ton of pictures. They’ve got Jiho’s face in them, and the other guy’s too. I’m not really sure who the one sucking him off was, but hey. Doesn’t matter, right? I stay really quiet, I don’t move a muscle, and the guy finally gets the lead out and tucks it in his pants. And then, it’s like some goddamn movie or something because he’s looking at me and does this fucking _comedic_ double take, and I get really scared, because Woo Jiho might kill me or something. But I remember what you said, and I walk over to him and he’s glaring me down and it’s fuckin’ _scary_ , man. And I tell him that I won’t post those pictures anywhere if he just gives me his revolver. I guess the guy values his reputation more than his weapons, so he hands it over without saying anything else, and I walk outta there without a scratch.”

     There’s a long pause only filled with Jihoon’s panting, out of breath from talking so much. Meanwhile, Jaehyo is completely stunned, tasting acid and swallowing down the bile that’s threatening to spew from his lips.

     “Well, whatever.” He almost chokes, feels tears rise in his eyes at the sour taste. “I’m just glad I didn’t have to see it. Now give me the damn thing already.”

     Jihoon hands him the gun without another word, and Jaehyo swears someone’s fist is squeezing at his heart because of how fast it’s racing.

     It’s _beautiful_ up close: the handle is dark hickory with golden chrome insets, slightly worn from use. There’s an old-fashioned tiger head etched into it, and its eyes are gleaming from the tiny round plates of steel that are set into its face. The name on the handle obviously reads _Woo Jiho_ , but it’s messily done, like it’s been carved in by some switchblade as an afterthought.

     Jaehyo knows Jihoon doesn’t understand how many doors have been opened for him right about now. Knowing one of Jiho’s weaknesses--getting his dick sucked in swanky bars, that is--now gives him an advantage that he can manipulate, makes what seems impossible now as tangible as the deadly weapon in his hands. His head is dizzy with the newfound _power_ he has, the power he can used to bring Woo Jiho down and make Black Dragon the most well-known name in Seoul. It’s going to take time, Jaehyo knows, but the mere _idea_ is enough to satisfy him for now. It fills him up from his toes, through his legs, up his torso, causing his whole body to tingle.

 

     He can feel himself spinning out of control, into some soft, pillowy euphoria, where strong arms catch him and carry him on clouds of cotton.

 


	2. part ii - fire

 

_november 10th, 11:48pm_

 

   Jihoon knows that Jaehyo is fragile. That’s why he keeps so much from him.

     Not that Jaehyo isn’t strong, of course. Jihoon doesn’t think he’s ever met a stronger guy--even after meeting Woo Jiho. He knows what Jaehyo’s been through, knows how much pain and struggle he’s seen, and can’t help but _try_ to make things easier on him, even though his leader insists for him not to. He jumps around and talks too much and smiles extra-super wide because Jaehyo doesn’t have the energy to have that same positivity. He knows Jaehyo would be enthusiastic if he wasn’t so bogged down all the time, so he’s just doing what’s best for the both of them. It’s exhausting, but someone has to do it.

     Jaehyo crumples and Jihoon is there to catch him. And, less importantly, to pick up the gun that clatters on the wet cement from Jaehyo’s limp hands.

     They’re lucky they’re close to home.

 

~

 

      Jihoon’s apartment is modest, a small place with one bedroom, three mattresses, and a fridge that’s always full. His parents had forgiven him for leaving them, giving him a small allowance each month for basic provisions beyond what Black Dragon’s minimum-wage jobs could provide. They really are good parents; their only fault is their generosity, and Jihoon takes time to make that clear to them every time they try to visit.

     He sets Jaehyo down on his mattress--which Jihoon has identified from the dragon-print bedsheets that he bought for Jaehyo. They were a birthday gift a few months back, because Jihoon knew that Jaehyo liked tabletop roleplaying games. He wasn’t sure what kinds of monsters were present in those kinds of games, but he assumed that dragons were one of them.

     Jihoon places a glass of water and a few ibuprofen next to Jaehyo’s mattress for when he wakes up, observing the other’s face from his position adjacent the older man. His face is pretty all the time, but he looks so _peaceful_ now, as if he hadn’t fainted mere minutes before. His skin is smooth, pulled tight over his face but still remaining soft and supple-looking. The small tattoo above his left cheek looks like a lipstick mark, and the thought forces Jihoon to step away.

     Once that’s done, he makes his way over the two other empty mattresses, weaving himself through the labyrinth of discarded laundry, empty beer cans, and dirty dishes until he makes it to his bedroom. The floor there is completely clean, contrary to everyone’s expectation: Jihoon needs a sanctuary, a place to be himself instead of the goofy caricature he forces on himself in order to keep Jaehyo somewhere close to happy.

     His laptop is closed on top of his desk, the green light on its side pulsing steadily and reliably. Jihoon watches it, tries to match his quickening breaths to it before waking the gadget from sleep mode.

_One new email._

     He glances to the side, listens closely and ensures that he doesn’t hear anything that could indicate that Jaehyo is awake. When he knows he’s in the clear, he clicks the icon on the screen with both anticipation and dread.

     The email is from exactly who he thinks it’s from.

     [   _New Message:_

 

_Hello, Jihoonie._

_You haven’t been answering my past few messages, and I’ve been getting really worried. Something better not have happened to you; I don’t know what I’d do without you around, you know._

_Anyway, what I wanted to tell you about: Jiho broke down today. He said some creep took photos of him and Yejun at the bar today and gave away his gun in order for the guy to keep quiet. He told me he didn’t believe in regrets so many times in the years past, but now he seems more remorseful than ever. It makes me wonder what those photos could’ve been of. The two of them aren’t even that close, so I don’t get why they would go out drinking in the first place. Or why Jiho would give up such a prized possession over something that mundane._

_He can be so weird sometimes, I swear. But for some reason, it doesn’t stop me from loving him. Puppy love, probably. Am I a moron for that, Jihoonie? Am I stupid for saying that I will never_ not _love Woo Jiho? I bet you think I’m crazy, don’t you? You think I’m some kind of masochist or something, because I look at him and I see power and strength and warmth, but not the soft kind, like what you have. The kind of warmth that sizzles and burns and corrodes. So hot you can barely hover your finger over it for more than a few seconds before it starts to blister up. I want him to burn_ me _that way, no matter how much it hurts. I wouldn’t mind pain, if it was from him. Or maybe from y--   ]_

 

     Jihoon slams the computer shut.

     Not today.

 

~

 

     The rage that fills him is numbing. Jihoon can feel the heat running down his cheeks, from his nose, and he can’t smell or hear anything but the blood bubbling in his capillaries. His body is on fire, and Jihoon knows it’s the closest he’ll ever be to Jiho’s burning heat that’s so sought-after.

     He will never be Jiho. He will never have as sharp of a tongue, or as tight of a fist, or as fierce of an attitude. The only person who appreciates him will never unconditionally love him in that way.

     He’s jealous, and it’s making him hate Jiho even more.

     But at least he got the Red Tiger revolver.

     His fingertips are shaking as they push against the tear-stained screen of his phone, tapping in the URL of the notorious anonymous forum where so many people lurked to hear the latest news on Red Tiger. He types up a cheery fucking blurb to go with the cheery fucking picture of Yejun dropped to his knees with Jiho’s dick halfway down his throat, spit dripping out of the corners of his mouth and hair mussed from one of Jiho’s hands that are yanking through it.

     [ _check this out, guys! i wonder if they’re dating, haha! ^ ^_ ]

 

     His fingertips hesitate, but they’re shaking so badly that he hits ‘post’ without meaning to.

     Robotically, Jihoon restores himself, wipes the tears off his cheeks and glances in the mirror to make sure he knows himself before going to check on Jaehyo again.

     Jaehyo is stirring now, as daylight starts to stream in through the closed blinds on the windows.

     Jihoon forces a smile, kneels down to hand Jaehyo the now-lukewarm glass of water and two of the painkillers he’d prepared earlier.

     Sleepily, Jaehyo swallows them down, looks at Jihoon’s smile with narrowed eyes.

     “What’s wrong, Jihoon-ah?” he mumbles.

     Shit, is his cover-up really that obvious?

     Jihoon looks into Jaehyo’s eyes, big and brown and _tired_ , and he can’t do anything but wrap his arms around the other man desperately. He’s desperate to be held by the one he _wants_ , but Jaehyo is the only one who has a chance at wanting him back.

      Jaehyo is taken aback, limp in Jihoon’s arms for a few heartbeats before shoving the larger man off. “Jihoon, what the fuck? Get off me and tell me what’s going on!”

     Jihoon tries to brush that motion off, turning away and trying to force the second wave of tears from falling. When he finally speaks, there’s not an ounce of cheer or optimism in his voice. It’s faded to something gray and dismal, and Jihoon’s glad he can’t see the look of fear on Jaehyo’s face, because he knows it’s there.

     “Check the forum.”

     He waits about ten seconds, before he hears Jaehyo’s sharp intake of breath.

     “Delete it. Get rid of it, Jihoon-- _now!_ ”

      He digs his phone out of his pocket and finds the post, doing as Jaehyo says. But he knows that it’s too late. Anyone who follows this forum will have seen it by now, and the word of mouth will spread it like wildfire to Red Tiger themselves.

     Jihoon’s made an irreversible mistake, and they both know it. Jaehyo’s stepping to look at him, trying to shake him and get him to listen, but Jihoon’s eyes are cast sideways at the revolver that he’d placed on the coffee table earlier, hands clenched into fists.

     He'd be lucky if Jiho decided just to kill him. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don't know if this came out sad-like but i hope it did because i felt sad writing this
> 
> please leave me a comment on how you're liking this! i'm still kinda unsure about it aaaah


	3. part iii - motive

     

_november 19th, 10:45pm_

 

     Jaehyo will admit (reluctantly) that he and Woo Jiho haven’t actually seen each other or communicated since high school. The guy is good at ruling the city from the shadows, and Jaehyo has been trying to find him since they graduated. He tries to think of what they would _talk_ about, what they would discuss after being apart for so long. They were friends back then--not two peas in the pod, but still close.

 

~

 

     He hadn’t known about Red Tiger until the last day they saw each other. Jaehyo had heard rumors, had heard the news about the formation of the new group through word of mouth, but had assumed they were lies. Jiho would’ve told him upfront about that kind of thing, right? Sure, they weren’t the best of friends, but Jaehyo wouldn’t have been the last to know. He grounded himself, repeated the mantra in his mind over and over. _I wouldn’t be the last to know. I wouldn’t be the last to know_.

_Or would I?_

     It was summer; a hot and dry July day that made Jaehyo’s mouth feel like there was cotton balls stuffed into it. Regardless, he pulled Jiho aside, swallowing the remains of saliva in his mouth and almost gagging in the process. Jiho’s stare was enough to make even the most apathetic of people uneasy, let alone Jaehyo.

     “Is Red Tiger real?” he blurted, not thinking the question through before asking it.

     Jiho frowned. “What d’you mean.”

     “Did you form it? Everyone’s talking about it. Is it true?”

     He paused, not breaking eye contact. Jaehyo felt his heartbeat pulse, thrumming like a rabbit’s in his neck and his skull.

     “Yeah. I did it,” he answered coldly, eyes narrowing defensively. “What’s the matter?”

     What had Jaehyo been expecting? He was hurt, obviously, but he didn’t want to admit to himself that he’d thought this as soon as he’d heard the rumors. He wanted to believe that Jiho was being completely open with him, but it was obvious from the rumors that surfaced and how stony Jiho had been over the past few days that something was being covered up.

     “Why didn’t y--”

     “I didn’t think you’d be interested,” Jiho cut him off, stepping closer to him. “Don’t stress about it. You’re not fit to be a part of Red Tiger anyway, so it doesn’t matter.”

     His words were nonchalant, but Jaehyo knew what they meant. He’d heard it dozens of times before. _You’re weak,_ he was saying. _I don’t want to have people on my team that can’t carry their own weight. I don’t want you there because you’ll only weigh me down, even though we’ve been friends for years now._

     Jaehyo bit his lip, finally severing the electric connection their eyes were making. He couldn’t stand to look at Jiho now. Jaehyo thought he was different; thought Jiho believed in him and knew his strength.

     His voice was quiet and cracked from the desert in his mouth and his throat. “So you let me know that by letting me hear it from some dumb bitch’s mouth instead of your own?”

     Jiho was glaring at him, colder than Jaehyo had ever seen him, but he kept his eyes trained on his shoes. Looking at Jiho now would probably end up in tears, and that wouldn’t help much.

     “Yeah, I guess so,” he answered icily.

     Jaehyo turned around and left then, biting his lip hard enough that he could feel the skin rip. He could’ve sworn Jiho--firey, honest Jiho--had believed in him, had thought he was worth more than just a pretty face. Jaehyo had wanted to be a bigger part of his life, too; they were going to help each other to succeed. Although they hadn’t shared much of a personal connection, Jiho knew things about Jaehyo that he hadn’t told anyone else at the time. But now, thinking back, Jiho hadn’t done the same for him. If Jaehyo were asked to tell something personal about Jiho, he wouldn’t know what to say; the other man’s private life was closed off, completely hidden and unattainable.

     He was so caught up in his own thoughts that he didn’t hear Jiho calling out from behind him.

    “Jaehyo, no, it’s not about _that_ \--”

     He was already gone.

 

~

 

     After Jihoon posts those photos, Jaehyo knows he’s fucked.

     Even though they were technically deleted, a quick Naver search of “Red Tiger in Hongdae” picks up the novice cell phone pictures Jihoon captured after a few seconds of scrolling, low resolution but still blatantly showing off the debauchery that was taking place in the photo. Jaehyo finds himself looking at the photos when he has nothing else to do. Jiho’s facial expression is grainy but clearly pleasured.

     He’s glad _he_ wasn’t the one who saw Jiho in the bathroom, because he wouldn’t have known what to do. Jaehyo feels guilty for having all of the blame come onto Jihoon, because he’s the one who gave the order. But Jaehyo is tired. Thinking this through too much will only make him feel worse, so he decides that detachment is his best option.

     At this minute, he’s lying on his cot in Jihoon’s apartment, scrolling through Instagram and seeing post after post of allegations against Jiho. _So much for finding solace on social media_ , Jaehyo scoffs.

     The key in the apartment door turns and he sits up, running a hand through his hair and raising his eyebrows. He’s expecting it to be Jihoon; he’d told Jaehyo he was meeting up with Hyuntae tonight for drinks, and that he’d be back by about ten. Last time he checked, it was forty-five past, and Jihoon still isn’t home. Jaehyo knows that the other can lose track of time easily, but he’s still worried.

     “You look happy to see us,” Yukwon drawls, Minhyuk’s arm wrapped around his narrow shoulders as they enter. Jaehyo doesn’t realize that he’s glaring until it’s mentioned, and his expression immediately snaps back to being weary and worn.

     “Sorry. Jihoon said he’d be home by about this time, too. You guys haven’t seen him, have you?”

     “What’s _up_ with you and him lately?” Yukwon’s eyes narrow, catlike and suspicious. “He’s nineteen now. You don’t have to breathe down the guy’s neck, you know. Let him _live._ ”

     The years have really flown by. It seems like just yesterday that Jihoon was sixteen and terrified, having fled the house and dropped out of private school. Jaehyo’s aware that Jihoon needs his space, but he has this feeling tugging at his gut that something’s not quite right.

      “Nothing’s happening,” Jaehyo insists, biting the inside of his lip. He knows he doesn’t sound convincing, but showing weakness to a guy as critical as Yukwon would end up in more harm than good. “I’m just worried about him, that’s all!”

     “Bullshit,” Yukwon hisses back. “You’ve been wallowing in here all day long. You’re not _worried_ about anything. You certainly weren’t worried about me and Minhyuk coming back.”

     “No, but that’s different--”

     “It’s _no fucking different_ , Jaehyo.”

     Jaehyo’s fist tightens, and he looks to Minhyuk for support. But, as usual, the older man’s face is impossible to read. He looks between the two of them, remaining quiet.

     He knows that speaking will be like vomiting. Saying it will feel awful and leave a gross taste in his mouth, but he’ll feel a hell of a lot better than if he holds the words in.

     “I’m worried that Jihoon got captured.”

     Yukwon’s face deadpans, but then he licks his lips, tries to deny the idea.

     “No, that wouldn’t happen. Not over some stupid pictures, right?”

     “His reputation was on the line, Yukwon,” Jaehyo presses. “People wouldn’t take him or Red Tiger seriously if they found him face-fucking some random guy.”

     Minhyuk finally pipes up, addressing the technicalities. “Only Jiho knows what Jihoon looks like in full, right? Jiho could’ve described him to the other members, but I doubt it’d be enough information for them to find him in the city. Jiho himself would have to hunt Jihoon down to make sure they got the right guy.”

     “But, then again, we don’t know who the other members of Red Tiger are,” Jaehyo adds. “We have no way of knowing who’s a part of their team and who isn’t.”

     “Unless…” Yukwon speculates, eyes widening at the premise.

     His idea clicks immediately in Jaehyo’s head, and the name comes off his lips with a slick satisfaction that makes everything make sense.

     “Hyuntae.”

     Jaehyo knows that name well. Hyuntae was a self-proclaimed neutral when Jihoon had introduced him to the other members of Black Dragon. Jaehyo had forced Hyuntae not to disclose any of their names or information to anyone, and he’d agreed. Jaehyo could’ve sworn that he’d been completely neutral and honest about the situation. He and Jihoon had been friends for years--Jihoon had said that Hyuntae was like an older brother to him--but it all could’ve been a setup. Hyuntae could’ve been bribed by Red Tiger to capture Jihoon; Jaehyo’s learned that people will do anything if money is thrown at them.

     Minhyuk pats himself down, confirming that his pistol and knife are still strapped to his belt, while Yukwon pockets a bottle of mace and brushes his bangs back behind a black hat. Jaehyo grabs his backpack, knowing that the Red Tiger revolver is tucked safely inside.

     “Alright,” Minhyuk yawns, wringing his hands together and cracking his knuckles loudly in the process. “Where are they?”


	4. part iv - ultimatum

 

_november 19th, 8:56pm_

 

     Jihoon is wearing a long tweed coat, brought back from a family trip to the United States. They’d bought it at some fancy place--he can’t remember if it was Armani Exchange or Brooks Brothers--but he’s had it for years now. The fabric is well broken-in and cozy, protecting  Jihoon’s body nicely from the harsh bite of late autumn. Winter is coming, and they’ve said it’s going to be a long one. Somehow, Jihoon can feel it creeping up on him, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

     The pockets of the unnamed coat are deep and thick enough so that the wearer can hide practically anything inside of them. Jihoon’s hands are clasped around the handle tightly, afraid to let it go, as if the item will fall out of its own accord and scuttle back on the pavement to its real owner.

     His shoulders tense up against the cold in a feeble attempt to shield himself, but it only makes him appear more frail. He’s desperate to get to the destination, and it’s only when Jihoon rounds the corner that he realizes he’s made it.

     It’s taken a lot of effort to get here.

 

~

 

     The email had been practically impossible to look at without Jihoon going blind from either rage or tears. But somehow, he managed to look at the writing after a while as simple words, detached from each other and completely meaningless. The way he responded was that way, too; each word had its own meaning, with no correlation to any others:

 

_[ New Message:_

 

_Taeil-hyung,_

 

 _I’m really sorry about not replying to you these past few weeks. I’ve had a lot on my mind, with friends and all. There’s something nagging at me, pulling on me, and I don’t know how to deal with it. I’m scared of the repercussions, but I’m also too far gone to_ not _deal with the problem itself._

_As far as Jiho goes, I don’t have much to give you in terms of advice. I know how it feels to love someone too much. You feel stupid for following them everywhere, no matter what mistakes they make. The only thing I can tell you to do is to imagine yourself in Jiho’s shoes. I’m sure he’d be flattered at the very least to know that you’re so devoted to him. ]_

 

     The first draft had ended there. Jihoon had to step away from the computer, feeling the taste of vomit in his mouth, and had to run to the bathroom to retch out the contents of his stomach. There was nothing there but acid and the words he’d intended on writing, but couldn’t manage to type into the message.

     A few hours later, he added more:

 

 _[_ _You’re really important to me, too. I wouldn’t want you to put yourself in harm’s way for me, though. I guess I’m kind of like you, in that respect: I’d give anything to keep you from being in pain, or being in trouble, or something. I hope you’ll remember that.  ]_

 

     He’d stopped then, paused to look over the scramble of words he’d smashed down on the keyboard. They weren’t lies, but weren’t true, either.

     The only thing Jihoon had wanted from Taeil was love. It was a simple crush that had developed too much, but the circumstances placed under them both had made the idea of Taeil reciprocating his feelings too unrealistic.

     With that being said, Jihoon was still nineteen.

     Giving up something as heavy as love was completely impossible at this age. He still had too much faith in it, he knew; Taeil would never be his, but it was still worth a fucking try. Besides, he’d had plans of his own involving the Red Tiger revolver in the first place, so getting both tasks done would be like killing two birds with one stone. Or, in Taeil’s case, two fish with one harpoon.

     With that idea in mind, Jihoon shakily typed out the last paragraph:

 

 _[_ _I want to see you, hyung. I want to meet you face-to-face. I don’t think I’d be up for the aquarium right now, since I don’t get paid till next week, but I would really like to meet you somewhere quiet, just to talk._

_Yours,_

_Jihoonie_ _]_

 

     His email dinged minutes after he clicked the ‘send’ button.

 

     [ _When and where?_ _]_

 

_~_

 

     Jihoon has chosen a purposely quiet area of the city, without much nightlife activity. It’s a sleepy middle-class area without much of a crime scene. Jihoon wouldn’t even know about this place if it wasn’t where Hyuntae lives.

     He’s made a cover story: he’s visiting Hyuntae’s neighborhood for a few drinks at the bar. Jaehyo probably wouldn’t know Taeil in the first place, but if they were to meet and if Taeil were to share information about his own infatuation with Woo Jiho, Jaehyo would find some way to _creatively_ murder Jihoon.

     In fact, if Jaehyo knew about _any_ of what Jihoon was doing right now, he’d get killed. There’s a good chance he won’t ever see the other man again, if things go _that_ badly. Jihoon will admit: he doesn’t have a plan. He’s going to do what he can to make things good again, and if his attempts fail, then he’ll return to Black Dragon with his tail tucked between his legs and--possibly--his spine broken.

     It’s a reckless idea, but it’s all he can hold onto right now.

     Taeil is bathed in the orange glow of the streetlamp, his black hair perfectly fluffy under a black knit cap. His eyes are shining behind those wide-framed glasses, with a wisdom that Jihoon hasn’t seen in anyone else. He’s wearing a big, puffy coat, but Jihoon knows for a fact that the skin beneath is colorful and intricate from several tattoos that run all over his body.

     “Jihoonie,” he says softly, and Jihoon finds himself barely able to walk. Taeil’s voice is lilting and intelligent, as if he’s thought over every word carefully before saying it.

     Nothing like Jihoon. Lovesick, desperate Jihoon.

     All he can do is step forward to share the light with Taeil, freezing slightly as the other wraps his arms around him in a tight embrace. Taeil’s head is familiar on Jihoon’s shoulder, and Jihoon still can’t believe how _warm_ the other man is, and how he’s actually a member of the deadliest clique in the city.

     “I missed you,” is all Jihoon can say.

     “Mmph,” Taeil hums back, face tucked into the fuzz of Jihoon’s coat.

     They remain there for a while, before Jihoon forces himself to let Taeil go.

      “It’s so nice to hear your voice,” Taeil says with a smile. Jihoon melts a little, because he was just thinking the same thing.

     “Same for you.”

     “It’s been so long, and I swear, you grew some more.”

      Jihoon feels heat rushing to his cheeks. “Yeah, I’m still goin’.” He lets out a nervous laugh.

      “Lucky. I wanted to be tall. But I guess being short isn’t too bad either. You can reach under shit more easily.”

      “Yeah, I guess,” Jihoon answers dumbly, not knowing how else to respond. Taeil is cute and his shortness is cute and _everything about him is perfect_. But he can’t say that now. Not with the bomb he’s about to drop.

      “Ah, but I’m dragging on, here. What did you want to talk about, then?”

      “I, just...I--” Jihoon stammers, tries to buy himself some time.

     Taeil’s head is tilted slightly, inquisitively, with a hint of concern showing on his face.

     Jihoon forces himself to finish his sentence. “I wanted to tell you something, and I don’t know how you’ll react.”

     Taeil nods slowly, suddenly unsure.

     “I know this is going to ruin everything, but I figured I’d lay everything out on the table for you. I want to make sure I’m always being honest with you. One hundred percent. Because...I haven’t been.”

     Another nod. He’s staring steadily now, signaling for Jihoon to continue.

     “Y’know that guy you were talking about? The guy who forced Jiho to give away his revolver as blackmail? The asshole?” He laughs again, gripping the handle of the mentioned weapon harder. “That’s me. I fuckin’ did that, and it’s the worst goddamn mistake I’ve ever made in my life.”

     It takes a minute for Taeil to process. He echoes it back to Jihoon, just to confirm.

      “ _You_ were that lanky guy that Jiho was talking about?”

     “Yeah.” Jihoon suddenly feels the urge to tell Taeil that he’d done it for Jaehyo. Jaehyo was the one who gave him the order, was the one who planted the seed in his head. But now’s not the time for playing the blame game. Now’s the time to be honest.

     Taeil is still silent, mouth slightly open.

     Jihoon licks his lips. “I...I feel so bad about it. I just...saw your email where you talked about loving Jiho so much, and I couldn’t help but get upset, and I posted them and then deleted them, and I was crying a lot ‘n stuff. But, I have the revolver here, if you want it. It’s the least I could do to try and reverse this. I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry.”

     He can’t look at Taeil’s face now. Instead, he focuses on the ground, pulling the Red Tiger revolver out of his big pocket and holding it out for Taeil. He feels the smaller hand brush over his own, gently pulling the gun away.

     “I’m sorry,” Jihoon whispers again hoarsely. “Tell Jiho that I’m so fuckin’ _sorry._ ”

     There’s another heart-wrenching silence, broken only by the sounds of cars driving by on the other side of the street. Jihoon doesn’t know what he’s expecting, but the quiet is enough for him to anticipate all the possible options.

     Instead of any of them, he gets the press of soft lips against his cheek and the industrial click of the safety pulling back.

      “I’m sorry, Jihoon,” Taeil murmurs, eyes slightly wet. “I have orders.”

      In that moment, Jihoon knows he’s lost this battle. It may be his naivety showing through, but the feeling of being picked second still hurts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm in new york for a few days, and it's been really good to get a change of scenery to freshen up my writing. i have chapter 5 drafted, but i definitely need to add some things because i banged everything out at like 1 in the morning
> 
> it'll be there soon though! 
> 
> thanks for sticking with me this far <3


	5. part v - dynamics

_ may 2nd, 7:22pm - three years ago _

 

     Taeil’s obsession with Woo Jiho had begun like a fairytale.

     They had locked eyes at the jazz club Taeil performed at, having an open mic every Friday. The whole song had been a rollicking, relaxed blues piece with one high note at the end. He’d belted the last part with his eyes shut, holding it for a few beats before fading to a peaceful, cooing vibrato. The music had faded, and the club had been silent for a few minutes before one man stood up and clapped, watching Taeil with an unthinkable look in his eye. Others began to follow suit, but Taeil couldn’t help but keep his eyes fixed on that guy, feeling his face get hot before stepping offstage and sitting himself back down. He sipped his beer slowly, allowing the alcohol to fully sink in and calm him a bit more. 

     Soon, he noticed the guy moving across the floor, closer and closer to Taeil’s seat. Soon enough, his narrow frame loomed over Taeil, hollow-looking but still intimidating. 

     “I have to talk with you,” he’d said.

     They stepped outside. Taeil’s heart was pounding hard against his tattooed ribs. Jiho had fished in his pocket for a cigarette, lighting it up and glancing at Taeil through sharp eyes partially hidden by bleached-blond bangs. Taeil was immediately drawn into them, mystified by how fierce and ruthless they seemed to be. But he could see something beyond that, something  _ softer _ that Jiho seemed like he was trying to hide. This guy was tired.

     “You’re really talented, first of all. When I heard you sing just now, I was floored. But I think you know that already,” he said.

     “I’m not that good, but I guess you’re your own worst critic,” Taeil had admitted. “But thank you. It means a lot.” It really did, coming from a man as attractive as Jiho.

     “Mhm,” Jiho hummed, turning his head to blow the smoke into the streets. “What’s your name?”

     “I’m Lee Taeil.” He’d held his hand out for the other man to shake, but the guy didn’t take it.

     “Woo Jiho,” the other had said, as if it was a secret he was reluctantly revealing. He sighed through his nose, allowing a few more tendrils of smoke to escape.

     “Well, Taeil, I have something to ask you.”

     Taeil could feel his throat closing, partially blocking his breathing. He was surprised to hear that his voice was still somewhat functional. “Please, go ahead.” 

     It had come out a bit more flirtatious than he’d intended, but Jiho didn’t seem to be affected by it at all.

     “Are you bored with this?”

     Taeil felt his face grow warm again. There was a good chance that this was a fluke, a completely fake affair in order to get Taeil’s credit card information or something. He narrowed his eyes, trying to get Jiho to elaborate.

     He got the point. “I’m asking because I’m forming a little...group. It’s gonna be cool, I promise. It’s all gifted people. Smart people. We’re going to combine our talents and get treated like  _ princes  _ by everyone else _. _ ”

     Something about that seemed off to Taeil. With that aside, it  _ did  _ seem pretty cool.

     “So you’re organizing this group for talented people to gather? That’s it?”

     “Yeah, for now. Just a...club, for really smart guys,” Jiho shrugged. “I’m calling it Red Tiger. Tigers are the largest and rarest members of the big cat family, you know. They command respect.” 

     Taeil could’ve sworn he saw the corners of Jiho’s mouth turn upwards into a smile at that. For some reason, that seemed like a big deal.

     “So what kind of stuff do you  _ do? _ ” Taeil pressed.

     “Share your talents. Learn the talents of others. Combine them and create an empire.”

     That part  _ really _ captured Taeil’s attention. Throughout his childhood, Taeil hadn’t been very good at anything, other than collecting fish for his at-home aquarium, but it had been a hobby and not a talent. He’d tried everything: sports, theater, even dance, but nothing had seemed quite right. Then, he finally set his sights on vocal performance at the age of twelve. It’d been a match made in heaven; Taeil learned quickly and became fond of jazz performance in particular, and he found himself reviewing the music for at least an hour every day in between lessons. Needless to say, it got him a lot of shit at school. He’d get made of fun for being so into music, and hadn’t known how to properly fight back against those who bruised and bloodied him.

     “That sounds pretty cool,” he admitted, licking his thin lips and grinning at Jiho. “I’ve only ever been good at singing, and even then I had to teach myself how to do it for a really long time. I’ll need someone to teach me all the...tough stuff.” He laughed nervously, even though he wasn’t quite sure  _ what _ to be nervous about.

     “That’s  _ perfect _ ,” Jiho had snapped back. “I don’t want prodigies in my group. I want people who’ve worked hard to achieve their talent, because then they know how to teach it to other people. I want this to be a learning environment, you know?”

     Taeil could tell Jiho was passionate about that. His monotone voice had grown a little louder, a little more animated. 

     “So what’s your talent?” he had blurted.

     Jiho bit his thick lower lip. “I’m really into rapping. I grew up making mixtapes and stuff. It took forever to get my name out there, but I’m finally managing to get people to listen to my work.”

     Now that Taeil thought about it, rapping seemed to make sense for Jiho. He had that rhythm in the way he spoke; each word spat out  _ boom-boom _ after the previous, like he was in a rush to get to the next sentence in order to take a breath.

     “That’s great. I’d love to hear some of it.” The idea of listening to Jiho’s low voice rapping brought a slight chill to Taeil’s spine.

     “Come with me and you might.”

     Taeil was sold.

~

 

     They grew closer over the passing months. Jiho had finally disclosed some information about himself to Taeil: he was a seventeen-year-old who had been told to have had too many ambitions. He’d bleached his hair to try and get noticed by the underground rapping scene at the age of fourteen, and it’d become his trademark ever since. To make it in the underground, he’d been through some pretty tough shit in order not to be seen as a joke. 

     Taeil had also learned how ruthless Jiho had been with Red Tiger. The guy was  _ serious _ about it: he’d made Taeil swear on a bible to secrecy, cross his heart over and over before allowing him to become a permanent member. Taeil hadn’t realized what this meant until the only other permanent member, Kyung, had mentioned it to him.

     “It’s kinda like a status symbol,” he’d said. “It means you’re not gonna get kicked out.”

     Taeil felt himself beaming, shooting a teasing glance at the younger boy. “So what’re  _ you _ a permanent member for?”

     Kyung had smirked, baring slightly crooked teeth. “Being Jiho’s friend since second grade.”

_      Shit _ . 

     Soon, months melded into years. The name of Red Tiger had become more known as it progressed--and, consequently, more hated by anyone who Jiho deemed unworthy of becoming permanent members. Anyone who was kicked out of the group spilled all their secrets, and Jiho had grown more and more cautious of who to admit. Soon, he began to practice more draconian hazing tactics--Taeil had considered himself lucky to have only had to swear on a bible for his slot in the group.

     Time had also had an effect on Taeil’s feelings for Jiho. The guy was just so  _ dedicated _ to what he did, and Taeil became more and more gravitated to that part of him. He found himself listening to whatever Jiho had to say, hoping that would gain him some sort of reciprocation.

     Any attention from Jiho was good, and in that way Taeil  _ wanted _ the worst from him.

     “Fucking Ahn Jaehyo, man,” Jiho had muttered on his graduation night, speech slurred around the lip of a beer bottle, taking a long swig before continuing. “You should’ve seen his face today, I swear.”

     Kyung chimed in, laughing guiltily. “C’mon. You flat-out  _ rejected _ him, Jiho. He was your friend, after all. Not as close as me, but still.”

     Jiho had laughed again, coldly.

     “Not anymore, I guess. You don’t get into Red Tiger for looking pretty and having a sob story to tell. Get real.”

     Considering what else Jiho had disclosed about Ahn Jaehyo, Taeil had shivered.

 

~

 

     The younger boy’s parents were friends with Taeil’s mother, always inviting themselves over to Taeil’s house for drinks. Taeil had grown to love Jihoon and his family’s visits like some kind of archaic tradition. The family was full of life--and money--and it always seemed to manifest itself when they visited. 

     It was only when the two of them began to see each other independently that things grew more complicated.

     Although Jiho was the only person Taeil looked at from a romantic standpoint, the way Jihoon looked had come close to challenging that standard. He’d grown quickly, from short and pudgy to tall and slender, with long legs and a handsome face that was serious one minute and goofy the next. Even if Taeil was three years older, he would definitely admit that Jihoon was attractive, without a shadow of a doubt.

     They had long talks together during their trips to the aquarium, Jihoon’s arm wrapped comfortably around Taeil’s shoulders as they stood in front of the jellyfish exhibits. 

     “It’s been hard,” Jihoon had admitted. “But I’ve had friends help me out. My parents are also somehow deciding to forgive me, too.”

     Taeil’s eyes widened. Forgive Jihoon for dropping out of private school and ditching them? That was unlikely. The guy was only sixteen, and it was far too early for him to be sent out into the world now. 

     “Wow.” Taeil pressed his fingers up to the glass lightly, watching the animals float about. They were lucky; they didn’t have brains and couldn’t process emotion. “If I were them, I’d still be raw about it. You’re really lucky to have parents like that, Jihoon.”

     He’d nodded. “Yeah. I regret leavin’ ‘em sometimes, but it was what I had to do. I just  _ felt _ it, y’know? Like, how am I gonna get anywhere when I’m getting it how I want it all the time? I’m gonna have to learn the hard way if I’m gonna learn at all.”

     He was right.

    Taeil nodded, eyes still focused on the jellyfish. Nowadays, he found it hard to look Jihoon straight in the eye. The boy had changed; physically, of course, but mentally as well. He seemed more collected now, less of the goofy kid he used to be and more thorough with his thoughts. Around Taeil, at least, it seemed like he was carrying himself stiffly. 

     Something was wrong.

     They continued to see each other, and began communicating by email. Taeil hadn’t meant to break the oath he’d given, but it had happened eventually. He knew Jiho would kill him if he found out, but he knew his secret was safe in Jihoon’s hands. He doubted the other knew what Red Tiger was in the first place, or even cared about it at all. The way Jihoon responded to Taeil’s discussing of his life in Red Tiger was completely neutral, and Taeil had found that he appreciated Jihoon’s input far more than he’d expected. The guy was surprisingly good with written words, and Taeil had considered asking him if he’d be interested in trying to win a place on the team for his skills in writing and intimidating physique. But it was a fleeting idea. What if Jihoon got rejected? Taeil was worried for the way Jiho would treat him, now that his methods of admission had become more cruel.

     Soon, their real-life meetings became less frequent, and email became their only method of communication. They’d message each other in long-winded paragraphs, essays that poured out feeling and condensed it into emotionless words on blank digital space. They were breaking apart their true feelings, euphemising them without even knowing. Taeil wasn’t sure  _ what _ Jihoon was feeling.

     And, after a while, he decided not to make an effort to find out. 

     Taeil had assumed that Jihoon was simply getting acquainted with new friends. The younger boy was still just a kid; he was living with friends and probably didn’t want to talk to an old friend like Taeil much anymore. 

     Taeil, however, couldn’t seem to let Jihoon go. 

     He’d continued to email Jihoon daily, but got a response twice a week at most. He’d told Jihoon everything: about Jiho’s preference for hookups as opposed to a committed relationship; about how he was going out with Yejun every night, even though the guy didn’t have much in terms of talent or toughness; how he’d talk about Ahn Jaehyo in a way that made his skin crawl. How Taeil still felt addicted to Woo Jiho, even though the other gave little back to him in terms of affection.

     He knew he was being suffocating, but he was desperate. He’d find solace in Jihoon’s words, no matter how mechanical they sounded when they were written on a screen. 

 

~

 

     The day Jiho lost his revolver was the day Taeil found his chance.

     He’d entered the apartment loudly, slamming the door behind him.

     “What happened?” Kyung asked with a raised eyebrow, looking up from the sudoku puzzle he was working on. “Where’s Yejun?”

     “Don’t know,” Jiho said, running his hands through his hair and down his face. Taeil kept quiet, not wanting to worsen anything. Jiho’s moods could turn dangerous easily. “Someone caught me and him, though. Someone caught us and took photos. He wanted the gun.”

     Kyung’s mouth fell open, and Taeil could feel his own going dry. The Red Tiger revolver was Jiho’s prized possession, a gun that he’d bought when things had started to get a bit uglier around them. The day they purchased it had been the day that Red Tiger went from a simple club to a clique of young delinquents led by a guy that would go after anyone who was considered a threat. 

     “It’s gone. Our revolver’s gone.” 

     Kyung turned back to his sudoku puzzle, penciling in a few numbers, shrugging. “Eh. Not a big deal. We only use that thing for bluffs anyway. Put a thing like that up to anyone’s head, they’ll be scared shitless no matter what. We just gotta get a scarier gun now, that’s all.”

     Taeil finally managed to cut in before Jiho could. “It’s a symbolic thing, and it’s  _ loaded _ . If we don’t have it, we don’t have the thing that represents our team. We don’t have the thing that sums everything up.”

     Deep down, he knew Kyung was right. Half of what he was saying was to appease Jiho, and the other half was out of understanding. The pictures the guy took must’ve been extremely threatening to Jiho’s reputation both as a rapper and a leader of a gang, because Jiho wouldn’t give in something as precious as that revolver for nothing.

     “We’ll get him,” Jiho promised, lip curling in frustration as he took a seat next to Taeil on the couch. “I’ll tell you everything I remember about him, and you guys will keep a lookout the next time you’re out on the town, alright? We’ll get our baby back, and we’ll make that guy  _ pay _ .”

     Taeil knew Kyung would make fun of him if he took notes, so he did his best to mentally record everything Jiho described. If he found the guy and brought back the gun, it’d mean praise from Jiho, and that was all Taeil wanted.

     Thinking about that was what made Taeil realize how weak he’d become. 


End file.
